invitation log your cock

I called your name, three times three, and begged you to come.

You watched me from the shadows and emerged as I took the time and care to visualise you. Your hair, your pale and beautiful face, your long neck, a purple dress that showed off your hips and hinted at cleavage. You arrived only a little chubby. I could see the divot of your belly button ringed by a little doughnut of friendly fat against the front of your dress.

Your eyes always transfix me. You stepped out of the shadows and your eyes occupied my whole world.

I was on a low futon. You stood over me, looking down. Without saying a word of greeting you turned your back to me and looked over your shoulder. I got to my feet and unzipped your dress. You let it fall away and let me unhook your bra. Your underwear was black, a little lace but nothing over the top. You turned around and put your hands on my shoulders, wordlessly instructing me to sit back down. Of course I obeyed.

Your panties contained a bulge.

You looked a little cramped in there. I took another moment to visualise you from top to bottom. You wore the expression in your profile pic, your breasts were perfectly formed, bigger than a handful, and your little tummy didn’t hang, but stood out as a curve from your ribs, a faint line running down the middle.

Then you seemed to get impatient. I felt flattered: you were getting more cramped as time went on, looking at me. So you held your hands out for mine and took them when offered, placing them on your hips at the waistline.

It was pretty clear I was unwrapping you. I’d had to kneel to give you my hands so as your panties stroked their way down your legs I got front-row seats to your cock’s emancipation.

Dicks don’t do anything for me except when they belong to a woman looking hungrily down at me. And you’re always hungry. So I took my time.

You flopped out, partially stiff, as I could tell from the way you pointed mostly forwards. The two little ligaments connecting your cock to the top of its base would have stretched pleasantly as they bore the weight: a growing dick feels heavy.

It felt heavy to me. You looked so good. You looked so fucking hot, gorgeous body, the fundamental predatory heart of you, and your smooth, pale, lengthening cock basically at eye-height. As you grew your glans peeked out from your foreskin.

I had to touch you. I wanted to please you so badly. I stroked my hand down you, thumb underneath, teasing with not enough pressure to satisfy. Then I clamped my hand at the base of your penis, squeezing you, pressing against your body. Tight grip feels nice. You made a pleased sound. At full tumescence your foreskin rolls back smooth, leaving you a rod from pale skin to blushing rose. A drop of pre-cum glistened at the tip, so you must have been horny as hell.

I took your cock into my mouth as slowly as I could, as tightly between tongue and palette. My thumb at the base massaged in little circles. I wanted to give you pressure, spark lust in you.

It worked. You were so hard and you took matters into your own hands. Where I’d been slow, giving you tight heat creeping over you, your hips rocked forward and pushed your cock into my mouth.

We both moaned. You went deeper than I expected and you seemed to like it. Hips forward, the only thing to do without grabbing my head and choking me with your dick was to rock back. I moved in antiphase. You got to feel the whole thing in reverse, tightness slipping up to your tip; and then back again with another thrust.

I shifted to brace myself against you, which I think you took as a signal to go faster. I mean, it was. You fucked my mouth, gently at first, then growing in intensity until tears were streaming down my face. At some point you had grabbed my head, holding me in place once you knew I could take you.

I loved it. I tasted you but you didn’t come in my mouth yet, it was just your pre-cum. You were earthy and salty and a little sweet.

Then you stopped and pulled yourself out. I didn’t have time to ask why, you just knelt on my chest to get me on the ground and glared down, in the grip of desire and hunger as you stroked your own shaft.

You moved. Before I knew it you were 69 position atop me. I made eye contact as you guided your cock again to my mouth and I accepted you. Then you thrust home and sought my cock.

No, not my cock. You gripped me with your hand but only for control. I ached for more but instead you plunged your fangs into my portal vein. I felt the suction on my skin as you pulled great draughts of blood from me. My life began to leave me and pour into a warm little sac resting on my abdomen.

You thrust, back and forth, with abandon, except every now and then you would thrust and not withdraw. The tip of you in my throat, I couldn’t breathe, only lie there and feel your heat above me, the suckling as you drank me down. Heartbeats would pass. Then you would thrust and withdraw, seeking again to use me for your pleasure as you ate.

When you came I was already woozy. You tensed and flooded my mouth with silk but you never stopped drinking. I swallowed everything you gave me, timing quick swallows for after each twitch of your cock.

There’s a kind of gratitude that floods over you after coming. Maybe that’s why you were so happy to let me see your arse when you held it suspended over my head: you know I love it, even/especially when your legs are parted and I get a glimpse of your prim little anus. Now, of course, I also see your shining cock, and your balls, hanging lighter when you pumped them into me.

As always in the invitation, you kissed me into submission next. I love your kisses. Spiced with your come and my blood you took my breath away.

Normally you take me feet-first. You surprised me when your kisses became more ravenous, your lips parting further, your jaws opening a cavern for me to slip into. I went gratefully, bowing my head along your welcoming tongue. I squeezed myself into your digestive tract as much as you ate me. Raven, I want this more than anything. Too soon you got me wrapped up in your stomach, stretching you out to huge proportions. I like to think you were playing with yourself, masturbating as I gave you my life in glorious loving agony; visualising what your uncaring stomach would do to my flesh, wondering what your soul would do to mine.

I lasted as long as I could, Raven. I gave you everything I could.